


Partners In Crime

by huntersg1rl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Partners in Crime, Songfic, but a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersg1rl/pseuds/huntersg1rl
Summary: This is a fic I wrote based off a video by Suncelia. The song is Partners in Crime by Set it Off.If you've heard the song, you can probably guess how this is going to go.





	Partners In Crime

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I recommend watching Suncelia's video before reading this, since that's what this is based off of!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK5L8w-0jgo  
> If the link doesn't work, just search "Haikyuu!! Partners In Crime"  
> The video is absolutely beautiful and really captures the essence of the song. I fell in love with it and just had to write this!  
> Hope you all like the work!

It all started after college. Specifically, one year after Kiyoko Shimizu graduated college and the year Tanaka Ryuunosuke graduated with his best friends Nishinoya Yuu and Yamamoto Taketora. The four of them had been sharing an apartment for the past two years, a convenience, given they were the only ones from the Fukurodani Academy Group Training Camp that attended college in this tiny town. 

It’s a nice area, they know. Kind people, beautiful homes, and family-owned shops lining the one main road. But with a small, everyone-knows-everyone town, comes fewer employment opportunities, especially since they all majored in very specific areas. None of them were able to find a job more than a waiter or barista in this backwater town. They’d have to move to a city… if they had the money to do so. College had, for all intents and purposes, drained them. Sure, they could afford their apartment, making rent just barely each month, and always spending the last few days until payroll scraping by on cup ramen.

It had, like most stupid, money-making plans do, started as a joke. One they’d made before, many, many times, but this time… It’d never work anyway. Besides, they’d have to be psychopathic to try it. Completely bonkers. Out of their ghord. On their way to the loony bin. But Tanaka cracked the joke anyway.

“We could always rob a bank,” he said, a wicked smirk on his face, barely able to say the line before dissolving into laughter. There wasn’t a bank large enough in that little area to get them much money. 

“Not here,” Kiyoko informs him, “it’s too small of a town and the nearest bank is the next one over. Can we even afford the bus tickets right now? No, we’d have to rob a shop first.”

“Not if we wait for payroll,” Noya throws in. And it suddenly begins to spiral out of control. They start talking, discussing the logistics of how to get away with robbery. “If we wait for payroll, we can afford not only a bus ticket, but a gun or two.”

“So, what,” Yamamoto leans back against the wall, no couch in the room, “we get two guns, send two people in to get a backpack of cash. Now what? How do we get away?”

“Well, I do have that van,” Noya leans forward. “The one I got when I thought I’d start a band. It’s big, black, and the back doesn’t have windows. One person drives, one person stands as a lookout, keeping the doors open for the others and talking to the cops if need be. A distraction, if you will. The other two go in and get the cash.”

“I don’t have a license,” Tanaka points out.

“Neither do I,” Kiyoko agrees.

“Then you two can go in. It’d be better that way, actually. They’re less likely to think a 

couple will rob them than two thug-looking guys.”

“I can drive and Noya can be lookout,” Yamamoto agrees. Their voices have all changed. They’re leaning forward, looking at each other all too seriously. No one’s joking anymore.

“We get gas at payroll, fuel it up, get some guns on the down low,” Kiyoko lays out the plan, “Tanaka and I go in, hit the store we pick, and Yamamoto drives us away into the sunset. Now what?”

“A few miles away, when the cops are off our tail, we take the covers off the licence plates, and drive to the city, keeping the cash buried under our luggage. We get an apartment there, using our newfound riches to pay for it,” Tanaka says, eyes shining with the same look he used to get whenever he and Noya found a new way to annoy everyone.

“Good, good,” Noya agrees, “Go all the way to Tokyo. I can even add some fake decals  to the side of the van so they’ll be looking for the wrong one when we get to the city.”

“I like that. Make them big, bold, so they cover most of the actual paint job, making it difficult to tell the real color. But easy enough we can peel them off in less than a minute,” Yamamoto tells him.

“Exactly,” Noya says with a nod, “And before we do it, I’ll stake the place out. My major was in electronics, after all. Maybe I can help figure out the security system.”

“That’d be great,” Kiyoko murmurs, “but which shop? And do we do it here in town or go one or two over?”

“One or two away,” Yamamoto decides, “Not so far that us going there would seem odd, but far enough that they won’t be able to put names to faces.”

“And we want a shop that will deal mostly in cash, but isn’t terribly busy. And we should go close to closing.” Tanaka waves a hand through the air the way he does when he’s trying to think. “There shouldn’t be any customers if we call it close enough.”

“Good. We don’t want anyone playing the hero and getting hurt.”

“So, what, one week after payroll, we’ll do it?” Their eyes meet each other’s around the small, floor-level table. 

“Are we actually doing this?”

“Guys, I know where we can get guns,” Tanaka says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “So if we actually are, we can.”

“Why not?” Kiyoko sighs, “It’s not like our lives can get much worse.”

“It’s been four months since our graduation,” Yamamoto gripes, “and we’re all working dead-end jobs. We’re struggling to make rent on a two bedroom apartment while managing to keep ourselves alive, just barely.”

“Besides, even if we get arrested,” Noya points out, “we’ll just go to jail for a couple years. Spend some time on the inside, get three hots and a cot, guaranteed. And when we get out- guys, there’s programs for ex-cons to get jobs. It’d be easier to go through that than try to find a job the normal way.”

“A fall-back,” Kiyoko mutters. The idea really is starting to sound better and better.

“Then, Noya, since you’ll be the one looking over their security system, we’ll let you pick the location. Try to make sure-” Tanaka is cut off by the shortest of the group.

“I know, Tanaka. I’ll make sure there won’t be too many people around when we do it.”

***

It’s a week later that Tanaka comes home holding two guns and a box of ammo, carefully concealed in books with the insides cut out. Textbooks. No one would question it. Who would? They’re recently graduated. Of course they’d still have their stuff.

“Kiyoko,” he calls softly, knowing Noya is working on getting the specifics of the security system from his laptop in the corner. “Come here. Do you know how to hold this?”

She stands, moving over to where he is at the table. The same table they had the conversation about their jump into the life of crime. 

_ Three more days,  _ she thinks,  _ three days and then we’re criminals. And then we’re rich. _

“Here,” Tanaka hands her one of the handguns, “can you hold this right?”

“Yes,” she tells him, voice soft, “I used to do paintball with my brothers.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Tanaka’s grin is happy, excited. Kiyoko assumes it’s authentic. After all, she doesn’t share much about herself often.

“So, you can actually shoot this, then.”

“Probably. I assume the kick will be different, but I believe I should be able to adapt pretty smoothly.” Her hands turn the gun expertly, checking the safety and popping out the magazine, looking to make sure it’s empty before raising the weapon to check the sights.

“We’ll have to find out on the fly,” he reminds her. She knows this already. It had been her to point out that they wouldn’t be able to practice shooting the guns before going in. If anyone heard a gunshot around here, the police would be called. It’s too quiet of an area. The city will be safer.

“I have it!” Noya crows from his seat. They set the guns down quickly, hurrying to his side. Yamamoto is out, layering the decals over the van in the privacy of the covered garage. With everyone at work, now is the best time for him to do it. And their car is on the far side of the garage, so it’s likely no one will see it. They hope, anyway.

“So, what’s it like?”

“There’s no silent alarm, thankfully. It’s a little coffee shop,” he tells them. That’s the first information they’re getting on the target. “The register should have a little cash, maybe a hundred total. It’s the safe you’ll want. They send the money to the bank via armored truck, like most in the area, every Friday. If we go on Thursday, like planned, we’ll get the most money. Get the manager to open it and empty it into your bag. They won’t be able to call the police until you leave.”

“Got it.”

***

That Thursday, they load into the van. Yamamoto in the driver’s seat, Noya in the middle, and Tanaka and Kiyoko in the large, open back area. Their guns are clenched tightly in their hands, but they lean against the several duffels lining the perimeter as if they are relaxed.

Soon enough, they’ll have more money than they’ve seen in a long while. As much as they usually make in a month, all together. More, even. Nearly triple that, if Kiyoko is being honest with herself. But there’s no guarantee it’ll go as planned, so she buries the truth in her mind and focuses on the gun in her hand. They only have one chance at this. If they fail here, they go to jail failures. Attempted armed robbery isn’t as glamorous a title as armed robbery.

“Remember,” Noya lectures from his spot as the coffee shop comes into view. “Once you go in, you have five minutes, maximum, before someone realizes something is wrong. Go in, get the cash, get out. No hesitation, no pausing, just in, and out.”

“Got it,” Tanaka grumbles. “We don’t do anything but get the cash.”

“You remember your line if there’s a customer?” Kiyoko asks.

“If there’s a customer, we go in, up to the register, and ask to speak to the owner to compliment the service we had a few days ago.”

“Right. And when the owner comes out, we flash our guns to him, but keep it out of sight of the customer. Ask to go to the back to speak with him. Then, when he takes us back, make him empty the safe and have the cashier bring out the money from the register.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“We’re smart. We can do this.”

“Just no mistakes today.”

“None.”

The van stops.

“You’re up in two minutes. Take some deep breaths, guys. No customers in there now,” Yamamoto informs them. Because there’s no windows on the van aside from the front and middle, he and Noya are the only ones who can see out.

“Two minutes,” Kiyoko whispers.

“Do you still want to do this? If we drive away now, it’s like it never happened,” Tanaka offers.

“No.” Her voice is firm, filled with resolve. “I want to do this. I’m sick of living paycheck to paycheck.”

“I am, too,” he agrees, setting a hand on her knee. “So let’s go in. One minute. Take a deep breath.” She does and, in sync, they slide their guns into their waistbands, covering them with loose shirts that look fashionable, but are really for convenience.

“Thirty seconds, guys,” Noya warns, and they stand, moving to the back doors of the truck. They pop them open and the performance starts. 

Tanaka walks almost all the way to the door, stopping and looking back at Kiyoko, who hangs off the driver window, asking loudly what Yamamoto and Noya want. They each rattle off a simple order and Kiyoko nods, turning away and walking to Tanaka. They step across the doorway exactly at the planned time. Five minutes to closing. They approach the register, double checking that no customers are in the room before they move their hands to their hips, dropping the happy smiles.

“Hands up!” Tanaka shouts, drawing attention from the owner, who comes running out.

_ Fool, _ Kiyoko thinks,  _ but all the better for us. _

“You,” Kiyoko points her gun to him, “take me to the money safe.” The man nods shakily, letting her order him around. He opens the safe for her, puts the money in the bag she tosses to him, and repeats the process with both registers. The bag is full when they’re done.

“Now,” Tanaka barks harshly, “wait until we’re out of the door to call the cops, okay? Be good and do that for me, okay?” They back towards the door. “We’ll be gone in a second.” The door opens, they slip through, hiding the guns, and the door closes. Ten seconds later, they’re in the van, doors closed, and driving off. 

They don’t break the speed limit and they don’t squeal their wheels. Instead, Yamamoto drives them safely through the town, waiting to see if the police would find them. They almost do, they are a block away, but they weave right instead of left, believing they’d be immediately getting on the interstate towards the city. Yamamoto chuckles at that.

“Don’t laugh yet,” Noya sighs, “we’re not in the clear yet.”

“If we always get shops without security cameras, though, we should be alright,” Kiyoko informs him.

“That’s not the main problem, though,” Noya tells her, “the car is pretty noticeable right now. I wanna get these stickers off it soon.”

“We’re almost there,” Yamamoto says calmly, guiding them onto the long, winding driveway in a little patch of trees. “We’re taking the decals off now. Let’s go.” He and Noya jump out, tearing off the colorful patches in a hurry, leaving them with an all-black van just one minute later. They get back in, turn the car around, and drive off towards the city. When they near the town again, there’s a roadblock. An officer taps on the window.

“How can I help you, officer?”

“Sorry to bother you, but your van is the same make as a getaway car from a robbery. Mind letting me have a look in the back?”

“Of course, go right ahead.” Yamamoto turns in his seat, looking straight at Tanaka and Kiyoko. “Let him in for me?”

“No problem, man,” Tanaka assures him, popping the doors. Inside, what the officer sees are bags and bags of luggage. Both walls are lined two to three duffels high. It’s nearly fifteen bags in all.

“Mind telling me where you’re going?”

“We’re moving to the city,” Tanaka tells the officer with an excited grin. “We’ve been waiting to for a while now.”

“Well, you don’t have the bag we’re looking for, so you’re good to go. Have a safe trip.”

“Have a good day,” Kiyoko responds and slams the doors. Once they’re a good fifteen minutes away, they all break down into giggles and Kiyoko opens one of the duffels, revealing the bag they had used in the heist.

“I can’t believe we did that!”

“We actually pulled that off.”

“That worked. That actually worked.”

“Hey,” Tanaka says, voice lower, strained with worried thoughts, “so, I was thinking. Kiyoko?” Only when she meets his eyes does he continue. “On the course of everything going successfully, would you consider going on a date with me?” Kiyoko feels a smile begin to split her lips at the younger boy’s question. He had asked her out nearly every day in high school, but once they reached college, he calmed down and she got to know him as a person. A while ago, there was only one right answer for her: no. Now, however, the right answer stands out, in bolded Word Art.

“Yes,” She agrees and accepts the tackle hug she should have known was coming. Tanaka settles into his new spot at her side, an arm draped across her shoulders, tugging her into the warmth of his side. Kiyoko relaxes into him. For the second time in their lives, everything is going right. Maybe this time, it’ll stay that way.

***

The new apartment has four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a huge living area. They furnish it with the best of the best, getting a real, mahogany table and plush couches and even a giant flat screen TV. Even after all of that, they have a little left over for food for the month. More than they usually do, to be honest.

“So, are we going to get jobs, or continue with… this?” Noya asks, holding up a newspaper. “Because I can find both in this paper.”

“The heat’s already died down on that last one,” Kiyoko says, “so I think as long as we don’t stay too close to home, we should be able to pull of at least a few more.”

“Let’s keep it low-stakes for now, though,” Yamamoto adds, “just until we really get the hang of this.”

“We should probably have low-hour part time jobs, too,” Tanaka sighs, “just so no one can question how we afford this place.”

“And any cash we get, we keep in cash. Taking it to a bank would get us caught.”

“You know what would be even easier?” Noya interjects before Kiyoko can make up a list of rules. “Not taking cash. We hit up a jewelry store or a rich person auction thing. Then, we just sell that stuff on the down low and bam, clean money.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“This,” Noya says, waving the newspaper around. “There’s an ad. This jewelry company got a shipment of diamonds, but they’re going out of business, so they’re having an epic sale. We should go take some of it.”

“Let’s do that next, but I think we need one more test run before trying somewhere that might have a silent alarm,” Yamamoto takes the paper, “besides, they’re not closing for at least another month. Two, actually. Look at the date, there. If we go too soon, it’ll be easier to catch us. Going when they’re right about to close will make it less likely that they’ll hunt us down, since they’re already lined up to lose a bunch of profit.”

“Good point,” Tanaka agrees. “Does that sound good to you, Kiyoko?”

“Yes,” she nods, voice soft, “but where are we going first?”

“I’m thinking we go to the suburbs. Take another coffee shop or something like that. Not family run, a chain.”

“Good idea. A chain will get more business and more cash. They’re also more likely to have more cash in the registers.”

“But they’re also more likely to have a silent alarm.”

“I’ll find a place that recently opened. Maybe they won’t have it set up yet. But we should do the same thing we did last time. Go close to closing and be there no more than five minutes. Actually, less, now that we’re closer to a city. More people, faster police response.”

When they drive to the job, just a minute before they go in, thirty seconds before they get out of the car, Tanaka leans over to whisper into Kiyoko’s ear.

“Stay with me. We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners.”

“Partners in crime,” she agrees breathlessly, and they jump out of the car, about to succeed in a job that will earn them thousands of dollars.

***

It’s nearly two years from their first heist. They’re rich. Literally filthy rich. They’ve pulled hundreds of jobs without getting caught. Of course, they have to move around a lot, but who cares about that? They are living like royalty, like spoiled royalty. 

Tanaka and Kiyoko no longer have separate bedrooms, instead choosing to share. Their ability to blend with the super rich is improving, as is their speed at pulling the heists. Five minutes a shop became only two. An hour spent at a large party became barely fifteen minutes, enough for a nice glass of champagne and a dance before getting their riches and running.

Take today’s heist, for example. Kiyoko is stunning in her bold red dress, nails manicured to match. The perfect shade, of course, to disguise any blood spatter. Tanaka’s bow tie was made specially to go with her dress, from scrap fabric taken from the same bolt. In the large ballroom, they make polite small talk and sip casually on a glass of wine before moving away to get ready to work. But also to share a dance. Halfway through their dance, in the smaller room, they share a brief kiss and draw their guns. No one notices.

Their logic runs like this: it’s easier to control a smaller, but richer mass of people. Those who stay in the large ballroom tend to be the ones who want to prove they’re rich. But the ones who come to the smaller area are usually truly rich. And wearing the jewelry to prove it, albeit without that intention. There’s sixteen people in the room, but all are wearing accessories that could pay for a family of six’s survival for three or four years. 

“Stay with me,” Tanaka whispers into Kiyoko’s ear, repeating the line he now says at every heist, “We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners.”

“Partners in crime,” she responds and they cock the guns, getting down to business with wicked grins on their faces.

The next day, the next job, he fingers the gun, turning it over and over in his hands. 

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.”

“What about us?”

“This, its… a tale.”

“A tale about us?” Kiyoko asks and his smile changes from thoughtful to brilliant.

“A tale of reckless love, living a life of crime on the run. I brush to a gun, to paint these states green.”

“And red.” Kiyoko’s smile mirrors Tanaka’s. He leans in for a kiss and they tuck away the guns, popping open the van doors. 

“You two good?” Noya asks, a knowing smirk making his eyes glitter.

“We’re good,” they respond in unison.

“Kill it out there,” Yamamoto orders when they reach his window.

“Better believe it,” Kiyoko assures him and they turn, walking into the cafe. 

“Everybody freeze!”

“Nobody move!” Tanaka walks up to the cashier, putting the gun right up against her blonde bangs. “Put the money in the bag.”

“Or we will shoot.” With shaking hands, the girl does as she is told.

“Empty out the vault and me and my doll will be on our way.” More money fills the second bag they had brought. More than expected. Perfect. They grin at each other, hurrying out the door, taking just the briefest moment to stare at the paper faces on the telephone pole. Theirs had flooded the streets. They jump into the van and drive off, tearing open the bags to share the wealth.

“I know other jobs get us more money,” Noya squeals, fanning out some cash, “but this really is the best feeling!”

“It is,” Kiyoko agrees with a laugh. “But I’m worried about those wanted posters.”

“If the heat comes close enough to burn, we’ll play with fire. Why is that?” Tanaka reminds her, taking his love’s face into his hands.

“‘Cuz they’ll never take us alive,” Kiyoko replies, a relaxed look finally gracing her face.

“They’ll call our crimes a work of art, baby. Now,” he turns to Yamamoto, “where you taking us, man?” Everyone in the car lets out a whoop of excitement, clambering forward. 

“How does a beach town sound?” Noya practically throws himself out the passenger window with excitement, leaning all the way out, t-shirt pulled up in the wind, and one leg braced against the driver’s seat. Tanaka copies him, leaning fully out the window, leaving enough room for Kiyoko to fit if she chooses. And she does, leaning her head against his shoulder, the one closest to the car, and extending her arms. Only one is outside the van, but she’s more relaxed than Tanaka’s seen her in a long time, so he continues celebrating, grinning like a King. Even Yamamoto is leaning out the window to some degree, enjoying the breeze from driving on the expressway.

At the new city, Tanaka immediately asks Noya to pick a jewelry shop. There’s something he has to do. Of course, to not raise suspicion, they hit one or two places beforehand, gathering up a fair amount of cash before suggesting the jewelry store to Kiyoko. She agrees and doesn’t argue when Noya says to leave the planning to him. That is, after all, his job.

And so, two nights later, they break in, all four of them, reveling in the glory of the diamonds and silver and gold glittering under the moonlight. Tanaka, dressed to impress in a black button down, opened to reveal a crisp white t-shirt, tucks a white rose into the lapel of the shirt.

“Hey, baby,” he extends his arms over a case, “will you marry me?” Kiyoko gasps, hands flying to her face with joy, little tears threatening the corners of her eyes. So that night, they stand before Noya and Yamamoto, exchange vows, and slide rings onto each other’s fingers, Kiyoko in a simple, white summer dress and Tanaka in his pseudo-suit. 

But there was, of course, a reason Noya never came into the shops with them. Kiyoko and Tanaka can’t help but laugh as they remember it, watching the excitable boy run around, necklaces draped around his head like crowns and jewelry hanging off him wherever he could get it to stay.

In the van, Yamamoto informs them, “One more job, then we leave this town, got it?”

“Yes!” They all shout, laughing too hard to really care about having to move again. Wherever they go, they’re royalty, anyway. Spoiled, filthy rich, and finally happy. Who cares if it means they can’t stay somewhere for too long?

So, the next night, they go to the job. The shop, according to Noya, has one owner. He runs it alone when it gets close to closing time, since it’s rarely busy. An easy job, just a little extra cash to tide them over until they can sell the jewelry. Kiyoko’s eyes catch on posters as they walk in. 

When they pull their guns, Kiyoko notices he’s standing oddly, but thinks nothing of it.  _ Nerves, _ she believes,  _ from being on the wrong end of a gun. _ But then there’s two bangs, shots from a gun, but not from theirs. And Tanaka is pulling her away to a back room, arm bleeding, but the shot was only a graze. Her cheek stings a little, like if you scratched an itch too hard, but her glasses are cracked, leading her to start to panic.

“Where we gonna go?” She begs, hoping Tanaka has an answer.

“He’s got us pinned.”

“Baby, I’m a little scared.”

“Now, don’t you quit.” Tanaka takes her hand and leads her out into an alley, where Noya and Yamamoto have moved the van to, having seen what had happened through the window.

“He’s sounded the alarm,” she cries out, “I hear the sirens closing in.”

“Our faces flooded the streets,” Noya groans. “We should have known this was coming, should have left at the last job. Not pulled this one.”

“They’ll never take us alive,” Kiyoko says, voice strong and unwavering.

“If the heat comes close enough to burn, we’re burning this place to the ground,” Tanaka agrees, checking the charges on the van.

“They’ll never take us alive,” Noya repeats, some fear showing on his face.

“We swore that death will do us part, they’ll call our crimes a work of art.”

“They’ll never take us alive,” Yamamoto whispers from the driver’s seat, watching the lights come closer both in the mirror and up ahead.

“We’ll live like spoiled royalty,” they all say.

“Lovers and partners,” Tanaka and Kiyoko continue.

“Partners in crime,” their voices chime in unison, resolve giving them strength.

“Just another block,” Yamamoto calls, hitting the gas, then suddenly swinging them to the shoulder of the road. “Remember the plan. Stay calm. Don’t hesitate.” They huddle behind the van, watching the cops close in. 

The officers drive, little smirks gracing some of their faces, ready for some excitement. But they don’t know yet. None of them do. They haven’t put two and two together as to who these robbers are. They know, of course, their old friends are wanted, but they don’t know that’s who they’re about to face.

“This is sheriff’s police department,” a familiar voice comes over a speaker. The crew’s eyes go wide. So this is the town they all became officers in. “Come out with your hands up.” They raise their weapons, turning to face the officers. Their friends who would now bear the burden of their deaths. “Put your weapons down.” They hold fast, waiting for the order to fire. “Put your weapons down!” Another few seconds, the pause longer than would be given to anyone the officers don’t know. But they know these four, they played together, were rivals. Daichi hesitates, Suga’s breath trembles slightly, Oikawa and Iwaizumi hide their fear behind perfect poker faces, and Bokuto and Kuroo let anger be their guide. Anger at their friends for turning to this path, for leading them to this moment, for making them have to shoot.

“Ready, men?” No, no one is ready. The criminals know this, but adrenaline keeps them from seeing the humor of the moment. “Aim!” Another deep breath. 

_ How hard this must be for Daichi, _ Kiyoko thinks,  _ Ordering the deaths of three of his closest friends, another good friend, and making other close friends have to carry it out. _

“FIRE!” The sound of gunshots fills the air. As they shoot, they creep back from the van. Noya keeps a hand on the button that will end this, once and for all.

“The sky is black with lead-filled rain,” Kiyoko whispers, staring at the glare of bullet casings, falling in seemingly slow-motion.

“A morbid painting, on display,” Tanaka agrees in a hushed voice. It’s not likely the officers will hear this conversation, but no need for them to know the four are calm.

“This is the night the young love dies.”

“Buried at each other’s side.”

“You never took us alive,” Kiyoko giggles, hiding her smile by firing several more rounds far too close to her old friends for comfort, but it is a necessity. This must look convincing.

“We swore that death would do us part, so now we’ll haunt you in the dark.” Noya hears Tanaka’s cue. They’re close enough to the barrier, so he hits the button without hesitation. Fire fills the sky as the van explodes. The four jump, fire licking their skin, the extra moment causing injuries necessary for freedom. If they don’t believe they’re dead, if anyone had seen them jump, they’d be hunted forever. By letting the fire have a taste, they ensure their forever freedom.

“You never took us alive,” Kiyoko repeats one more time when they hit the river below, fires going out, along with her consciousness.

Up above, the officers watch the van with horror. None know there had been explosives inside, so they believe someone must have struck the fuel tank, a bullet must have set it off. But whose?

The fire reflects in their eyes, painting their faces with pain, the last act of their friends, their high school family.

“Was Kiyoko wearing an engagement ring?” Daichi whispers and it’s enough to cause them all to break, falling to their knees at the thought of having killed their friends.

***

The funeral takes place the next week, near dark, but everyone has cleared out of the cemetery before the sun has fully set. 

The death of the four partners hadn’t been the end of robbers forever. A new crew has popped up, new wanted posters coming to cover the shredded remains of their friend’s paper faces. The new crew reminds the stricken officers far too much of their old friends. They refuse to work the case, leaving it to their colleagues. They’re not at the cemetery when four people, two holding hands, arrive, staring at the headstones.

“Honey, look at this,” the black haired girl turns to her husband, holding up the front page of the day’s newspaper, left to rest against one of the graves.

**“Unknown Robbery Crew Strikes Shops Around The City”** reads the headline. The man’s still-forming scars pull across his face as he chuckles and drapes an arm across her burned shoulder, gun clutched in his hand. Next to him, a short boy with a blond streak smirks while counting a stack of bills from the most recent heist. He nudges the boy standing next to him, a boy with an eyepatch and blond mohawk. Scars wrap around the shorty’s arms while the whole of one side of Mohawk’s face is marred. Despite the injuries and the headstones, they are happy as they walk away, pockets and bags laden with riches, into the darkness of night, leaving behind the gravestones that read the names of their past lives.

“Which countries did you say don’t have extradition?”


End file.
